


However Improbable

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [7]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Hank has a very important question to ask Stella...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [然而未必](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449069) by [amamitouko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amamitouko/pseuds/amamitouko)



Hank had something he wanted to ask Stella, but finding the right time was a challenge.  Living together afforded him the opportunity to study her a bit more, learning the subtleties of her personality and moods.  It was hard not to dissect her like he was performing a character analysis, but she kept things wrapped up so tightly to herself that at times, he was forced to interpret things for himself.

 

For example, he knew when a case she was working on was bad when she actually spoke to him about it.  Not overtly, but vaguely, as they were lying in bed, in the dark, she might just softly and casually mention that her current investigation was at a standstill and it was weighing on her mind.  The next day he would come across the gruesome details of a crime that had the police baffled.  Sometimes there would be accompanying photos of her, stone-faced and grim.  There was almost always unflattering comments about public outcry and the incompetence of the investigation team.  The worse the crime or the longer it took for an arrest, the worse the outcry  and the more demeaning the comments were about incompetence. 

 

As lead investigator on any high-profile crime under the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police Department, Stella bore the brunt of the criticism.  The press found her bluntness and stoicism to be especially aggravating and they seemed to delight in targeting her when progress was slow.  Neither did she receive any of the praise for a job well done when justice was served.  The congratulations were always extended to the team of detectives who worked tirelessly to serve justice.

 

Hank knew when a case had been closed before the papers did.  He knew from the slump of her shoulders and the slow, heavy way she trudged up the stairs to the bedroom that she was on the verge of giving in to exhaustion.  She would not allow herself to be exhausted while on a case, always focused and alert, always ready to pick up the clue that someone else had missed.

 

Some cases took days, some took weeks.  At first, he wasn’t sure if it was his continuous presence or the nature of a case that made her seem more tense than when he freely came in and out of her life.  Perhaps it was the combination of the two, but she slowly grew to appreciate the benefits of having someone to talk to at the end of the day, even if she was still less than forthcoming.

 

The right time to ask something of Stella was never going to be during a case.  He could barely ask what she wanted for dinner during a case.  The best time to ask for her undivided attention wasn’t even at the close of a case when she was required to meet with a prosecution team and a board of review to work on offensive strategy, to present evidence, to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the investigation she ran was thorough, ethical, and impenetrable.  No, the best time to ask something of Stella was the in-between time.  The brief window of respite she received when judgment of her performance had been rendered and she was free for a few days before her next assignment.  It was when her mind was clear and she was at her most affectionate.

 

Hank waited until she’d reached such a point to take her to dinner and pop the question that had been on his mind for weeks, even longer if he really thought about it.  He was nervous about it, but fairly confident she’d say yes.  Moving in together had been, after all, a very big step for both of them.  He’d had to uproot his life in New York, small as it was, and she had to adjust to the invasion of her space.  He probably should’ve asked her before they even took that step, but he didn’t want to throw too much too soon at her.  He’d learned how to develop patience from her.

 

He took her to a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant they could walk to from home.  Though she preferred take-out to eating out, he knew she liked this place because of the dark interior.  The tables were set up almost haphazardly and they could just as easily sit beside each other on a long bench of pillows as across from each other.  He felt a swell of pride when she chose to sit beside him, sipping wine with her head nearly on his shoulder as he fed her bits of naan with chicken curry.  Her hand rested lightly on his thigh.

 

She was dressed in her version of casual, which Hank couldn’t understand, but he’d grown accustomed to: dark trousers and dark boots and a short-sleeved, sand-colored silk blouse.  She hadn’t curled her hair that day, but it still retained a slight wave just above her shoulder.  He was in his standard uniform: jeans, black t-shirt, leather jacket.

 

“I saw a lot of pages by your typewriter this morning,” she said.

 

“Ahead of schedule,” he replied, mouth full of curry.  “For once.”

 

She stroked his thigh and tilted her head so that she was leaning against his arm and shoulder.  He dipped his chin a little just to brush his cheek against her hair and washed down the curry with a pull from his beer.

 

“I want to ask you something,” he said.

 

“So, ask me something.”

 

“It’s something I’ve been wanting for awhile and I’ve just been waiting for the right time.”

 

Stella picked her head up and straightened her back.  She took a sip of her wine without looking at him and then put the glass on the table.  He picked up her hand from his thigh and turned it over so he was rubbing his thumb across her palm.  He tried not to tell her he loved her too often as it made her skittish, but at least she no longer ran from it.  She still had yet to say it back, but he felt, deep down, that she did.

 

“I love you,” he said.  “And I know that it’s been difficult for you to share your life with me, but I’m glad you did.”

 

She looked uneasy and her fingers closed against his unconsciously to form a fist and pull her hand into her lap, but he eased them back open and slipped his fingers between hers.  He raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of hers, low by her wrist.  She turned her head away and he reached over to touch her chin and bring it back so she would look at him.  Her face was set in an unreadable mask, the same face he saw in press conference photos in the paper.

 

“And, since you are a significant part of my life, it’s probably a little backwards that I’m going to ask this of you now instead of before we moved in together, but...”

 

“Hank…” she said, shaking her hand out of his.

 

“I would really like you to meet Becca.  And Karen.”

 

Her breath hitched and then exhaled slowly and relaxed.  “You’d like me to meet your daughter and your ex?”

 

“You know, I never did long distance before so I’ve never had to formally…”  He paused and shook his head at himself.   “We’ve had a year of this going back and forth and then me being here, so…yes.  I want the most important people in my life to meet each other.”

 

“Is that how you see it?”

 

“Do you see it differently?”

 

“I’m not entirely sure how I see it.”

 

Hank paused and reached for his beer.  He took a drink, put the bottle back on the table, and scratched at the label with his thumbnail.  “Is that why you’ve never asked to meet them?” he asked, throwing a glance at her.

 

“I suppose it never occurred to me to ask.  I’ve...never had to participate in a meeting the family ritual.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be some big thing.  I thought maybe we could go to New York for a few days or a week.  Karen offered to have us out to Connecticut.”

 

Stella leaned a little away from him and cocked her head.  “You already spoke to Karen?”

 

“Yes.  No.  I mean, she’s been offering for awhile.  She’s wanted to meet you since...well, I guess since I told her about us.”

 

“Why is this only coming up now, then?”

 

“I didn’t think you’d be very comfortable with it before.  Not back when you came out only on occasion.  Karen likes to have these dinner parties, so...”

 

“I see.”  Stella picked up her wine glass and swirled it slightly with the shake of her wrist.  Her lips tightened before she took a sip and she stared ahead at the empty table across from them.

 

“Hey,” Hank said, angling himself towards her and reaching across her waist to rub her hip.  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

“I’m wondering what kind of picture you’ve painted of me.”

 

“Something in the Picasso range, probably.  I mean, I’m no Rembrandt.”  He squeezed her hip and grinned at her, but she did not smile back.  Sometimes she reminded him so much of Becca when she was upset with him.  Neither of them had much tolerance for humor under those circumstances.  He’d had to learn how to speak frankly and honestly for his daughter and he could do the same for Stella.

 

“Karen likes you,” he said.  “You don’t need to worry about that.  And she knows first hand what a fuck-up I am, so I’m fairly certain she’d recommend you to be canonized for putting up with me.”

 

“What about your daughter?”

 

“She also knows what a fuck-up I am.”

 

“Please, be serious.”

 

“I am.  Becca...she’s a lot like you, actually.  Secretive, distrustful, moody, very particular about who she spends time with.”

 

Stella furrowed her brow and set her jaw.  Hank leaned close and rubbed the tip of his nose along her cheek while caressing the other side of her clenched jaw with his thumb.

 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he said.  “And you know it’s true.  I’m trying to explain to you that she looks at the situation in the same way you do.  I introduced Becca to a lot of women that I never should have.  She resented me for it.  Maybe even hated me a little bit for it.  She never should’ve seen me that way and she never wanted to.  She doesn’t appreciate a revolving door and flat out told me at a certain point that she would prefer not to be introduced to anyone in my life that would be gone by the time the sun rose.”

 

Her expression softened and he could see that he’d stirred her a little.  He took the wine glass out of her hand and put it back on the table.  He curved his hand around the side of her neck and she tipped her head to the side against the back of the high bench.  Her eyes held his captive.

 

“Stella,” he said, keeping her in place with a thumb against her chin.  “I would really like you to participate in the meeting the family ritual.”

 

“Okay.”

 

It wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t say yes.  She said okay.  Okay, she understood, but not yes, she would go to New York.  She continued to stare at him and he kissed her on the slope of her upper lip before he let her go.  She finished her wine and he finished his beer, but the curry went cold.  When she excused herself to use the washroom, Hank signaled for the check and waited for her by the door.  It had turned foggy while they were at dinner.  He helped her into her overcoat and they walked silently through the damp neighborhood back home.  He put his arm around her waist when she shivered, which she accepted, but she kept her own arms crossed and her head down.

 

He followed her inside the dark townhouse.  She snapped the dim overhead light on in the entryway and they both hung their jackets and removed their shoes.

 

“Stella,” he said, catching her by the hips when she tried to move up the stairs to the bedroom.

 

She turned on the second stair, taller than him by a mere inch.  “Yes?”

 

He took her arms and they were cold, so he rubbed them briskly, up and down, until her pale skin turned pink.  “I know I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me here,” he said.  “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want  _ us _ .  We’re more than a night in a hotel or a weekend in LA now.  Be part of my life.  Let me share it with you and let me share you with those that matter.  Participate.”

 

“I want to…”

 

“For now, just think about it.”

 

“Hank…”

 

“Just think about it.”  He lifted his chin and put a hand on the newel post to stretch his neck and kiss her lips.

 

Stella cupped his face in her hands when he tried to pull away and called him back to her.  He hooked his arm around her hips and she dropped down a step to press against him.  When he finally did break their kiss and pulled his head up to look down at her, she took her time opening her eyes and moved her hands down to his shoulders.  He came to regard that soft, sleepy gaze of hers as the ‘shut up and make love to me’ look he’d only recently discovered.  It was vastly different than the ‘shut up and fuck me’ gaze.  That gaze could melt the polar icecaps with its heat.  This one warmed the soul like a cup of soup on a cold day.

 

Hank pulled her hips into his and kissed her again.  She held on to his neck with one hand and moved the fingers of her other through his hair.  Her breasts pressed tantalizingly against his chest.  His grip on the newel post tightened to keep them up and he slid the hand around her waist up against her back and under her blouse.  Her skin was cool to the touch and she shivered as his warm hand traveled up her spine.

 

Stella pulled out of Hank’s kiss and her blouse came over her head and flew over the railing of the stairs in one swift motion.  Her bra was the same color of sand as her blouse was.  He couldn’t resist a quick nuzzle to her cleavage and a quick taste of her left breast before he unhooked the boring, practical, desert-colored bra, one-handed.  It caught on the bannister when she tossed it to the side and swung pendulously between the rungs near the post.

 

Once her chest was naked, she was always anxious for Hank’s bare skin against her own.  She clawed at his shirt and he took it off for her so she could rub her torso against his.  The sparse hair on his chest tickled and teased her nipples to attention and she moaned softly when slipped his hand between them to pinch one.  She wasn’t always receptive when he gave attention to her breasts, but the moan gave him encouragement.

 

Bending slightly, he swirled his tongue around the nipple he’d just tweaked and then took her breast fully into his mouth.  He heard her sigh, softly, and her fingers raked through his hair.  He nipped at the tip and she whimpered and jerked as he soothed the light love bite with the flat of his tongue.  Heat radiated from her chest.

 

He moved on to her other breast, lest it feel left out.  When he felt like she was getting impatient, he placed one hand low on her back to trace the waistline of her pants with his pinkie finger.  Stealthily, he slipped the little digit down into the crack of her ass.  She groaned and then pushed him away at the chest, breathing hard with glassy eyes.

 

“How do you want it?” he asked, rubbing her fingers where they dug into his pectorals.

 

She licked her lip and tossed her hair over one shoulder with the shake of her head.  “I want your mouth.”

 

“With pleasure.”

 

He roughly unzipped her trousers and she kicked them off the stairs after they fell to her ankles.  He bent and curved his body, mouthing the soft, velvety skin above her panties.  Her hips swayed towards him and he swiped his tongue under the lace edge of her underwear.  The tip of his tongue grazed the thin strip of hair over her mons and she gripped the top of her head as her body pitched forward.  He inhaled deeply before he stood, breathing in her arousal to heighten his own.

 

Though he was straining in his jeans, he was more interested in her pleasure than his own, at the moment.  They were not going to make it up the stairs, of that he was certain, so he moved up behind her and sat on the third step and took her hand.  She stepped over him as he laid back on the stairs and guided her down to his mouth.  His neck rested not uncomfortably on the lip of one of the risers and he shifted to find the best angle as she pulled her panties to the side for him.

 

He felt for her legs as they folded beneath her and cupped her knees to protect them from the hardwood.  It would be difficult, not being able to use his hands, but he would improvise.  He’d barely touched her, but already she was dripping warmly down his chin.  It certainly made his job a lot easier.  He took her weight against his forearms as she leaned forward and flattened her palms on the step above his head.  He was going to have to rely on her to control the pressure.

 

Hank licked and sucked and probed like his life depended on it.  He groaned softly as she grinded her hips down against his mouth and the edge of the stair bit into the back of his neck.  He was going to be sore tomorrow, but it would be worth it.  She whimpered softly and her thighs clenched lightly at his cheeks.

 

Though he had her panting and groaning quite quickly, he knew he was never going to get her off this way, but he was going to get her close.  The stimulus he could offer in this position wasn't going to be enough for her.  He squeezed the top of her legs with light pressure and dipped his head as he retracted his tongue.  She groaned, but caught on to his intent and backed up down his body, leaving a trail of her arousal down his chest as she slid to the base of the stairs.

 

Hank quickly sat up and unzipped his pants while she stepped out of her panties.  He reached for her after sliding his jeans and boxers down his thighs and she straddled his lap.  He sighed in relief as she took him inside.  The ache in his groin had been verging on painful.

 

Stella used her toes to lift her hips and sink back down.  He cupped her ass to make it easier.  She had one arm over his shoulder and gripped the railing of the stairs with the other.  Her breasts jumped with every thrust and taunted him, just out of reach of his mouth.  One of her feet slipped off the stairs and he caught her knee before her shin came down onto the wooden edge.

 

“Fuck,” she said, slowing a little and rocking forward instead.

 

“That’s good,” he said, as she rolled her hips and bore down with her pelvis.  “God, Stella.”

 

“Don’t come yet.”

 

“Shit.  What do you need?”

 

She dropped her arm from his shoulder and reached down to where they were joined and circled with two fingers.  He squeezed her ass, lifted and released in slow intervals.  His balls were hot and tight and he gritted his teeth.

 

“Stella,” he groaned.

 

“Do it.  So close.  God.”

 

“Fuck.”  He let the pressure that’d been building release itself and he strained up inside her, wanting to slow time just for a few more seconds so she could tip over that precipice with him.

 

Those blessedly tight muscles inside her contracted around him, milking him, pulling him as deep as he could go, and then she trembled and jerked above him.  Her mouth opened and her breath caught on a gasp.  She arched her back and he could feel her hummingbird heartbeat where he placed his hand between her shoulderblades to keep her from falling backwards.

 

He deflated before she sagged in his lap.  Her head dropped forward and she let go of the railing to dangle both arms from his shoulders.  He stroked her from shoulder to hip, kissing her collarbone and neck where he could.  She closed her arms around him and held his head to her throat.

 

“I do love you,” she whispered.

 

He felt a surge of something in his chest.  Pride, maybe.  Or just happiness.  He hugged her close and turned his head to catch her lips in a slow, wet kiss.  She pulled out of it after only a few moments and then let go of him and he let go of her.  She stepped down the two stairs behind her on quivering legs and went about collecting the scattered clothes from the floor and banister.

 

“Stella,” he said, standing and tucking himself back into his pants, but leaving them unzipped.

 

“What?”

 

“Have you ever said that to anyone before?”

 

“No, I haven’t.”

 

He came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, swaying her softly with her back to his chest.  She shifted the clothes in her hands and tucked them under one arm to run her fingers down his forearm from elbow to wrist.

 

“I need a shower,” she said.  “Will you be joining me.”

 

“I’ll be up in a minute.  Want me to bring you a glass of water?”

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

He let her go and watched the sway of her naked hips as she ascended the stairs into darkness before he crept into the kitchen to grab some cold water.  He wondered what those asshole journalists would think, if they saw the Stella that he did.  In some ways, he rather enjoyed being the only one she allowed into her heart, even if it was in small doses.  But, now, it was time to move out of the insulated bubble they had placed themselves in.  He needed her to come to New York with him and he needed to share her with his family.  As he stood in the kitchen with his water, he had to remind himself that she still hadn’t said yes.

 

The End

 


End file.
